


Sharp Edges and Metal Bits

by thetrueenemyofhumanity



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, trying to be domestic in an irradiated wasteland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 20:43:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19217176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetrueenemyofhumanity/pseuds/thetrueenemyofhumanity
Summary: Prompt: "Can we Cuddle?"





	Sharp Edges and Metal Bits

You sat back with a heavy exhale, wiping some of the thick grease off your hands with a very old and very worn rag, likely dirtying your hands more than actually cleaning them. With a cautious finger you poked the pile of scrap in front of you, a smile of pride crossing your face when you found it held strong. To most eyes, it would be nothing more than a load of junk. But with talented hands like yours, which were accompanied by an even more talented mind, you could create something great from almost nothing. Through your eyes you saw a world of possibilities and appreciated the potential that was stored in everything. Even in the Junkers, much to their disbelief. Speaking of the Junkers, a certain rat hadn’t taken his eyes off you since you started working on your new project.

Jamison wasn’t exactly blessed with a great attention span, but when it came to you he could watch you for hours and it still wouldn’t be enough. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him on the adjacent tattered couch, leant forward and watching at you with a gleam in his fiery eyes, barely blinking. That gaze was finally broken when you tossed that same rag into his face. With a shocked huff, he bolted upright, knocking the feeble couch back as he did with a loud crash. Junkrat ripped the fabric from his face to reveal a deep frown. But he could only hold it for so long when that infectious laugh of yours filled the room. You rolled off the couch and clutched your sides, and even though the joke was at his expense, Junkrat’s chest physically ached with the crushing weight of how much he loved you. But he could never tell you that. You may have had an affinity with broken things, but he knew he was surely unrepairable, even in your hands. However no matter how many times he told himself to move on and stop dreaming, reminding himself that you deserved better, he couldn’t stop that constant aching. As much as it hurt to carry this, he could never tell you because it would hurt infinitely more to lose you. So he put up that mask. He played the fool to hide his breaking heart.

“Oil is flammable y’know,” he teased, holding out a hand to help you up, “And m’hair is still sparkin’. You could’ve burned my face off!”

“Oh Jamison, I wouldn’t be as foolish to destroy those good looks,” you sighed once you had finally caught your breath. When you took his hand his heart skipped a beat and he felt as though a thousand volts were sent through his system. He pulled you to your feet and his hand stayed wrapped around you for a few more lingering moments. A bush crept across your cheeks before Jamison quickly yanked his hand away with a nervous laugh, trying to look anywhere but at you in case his mask slipped away. You threw yourself back down onto the couch, an eruption of dust emitting from the fabric as you did so. You pulled a face as you spluttered, wafting the dust out of your face.

“What junkyard did you get this out of?” you asked, patting the empty space beside you. He took up that offer, slightly thankful that the dust was burning your eyes too much to see that he had gone bright red. He shifted a few inches away, not daring to get too close to you.

“Pickin’s were slim, this smelled the least.”

Jamison wished he could give you every luxury and every piece of perfection you deserved. But life in this irradiated wasteland made that an impossibility. He wished he could give you the world but all he could offer was…scrap. He was pulled out of his thoughts when you rested your head on his shoulder. His breath hitched and he stiffened. You quickly pulled away, wide-eyed with cheeks burning.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!” you said frantically, “Oh fuck, I’m such an idiot, I’m so-“

When you moved to get up his hand wrapped around your wrist and quickly stopped your retreat. Shock was painted all over his features but after a moment you could see him visibly relax.

“D-don’t be sorry, ya goose. Caught me by surprise is all. Just didn’t think I’d make a good pillow. I’m all sharp edges and metal bits,” he told you, waving his metal hand at you to demonstrate his point. With his other hand he gently tugged your wrist until you returned to your seat.

“It was stupid, I could have at least asked first. Let’s just drop it.”

“I… Well, I’m going to ask. Can we…we… Can we cuddle?” he stammered, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

You chewed your lower lip to try and hold back a smile. You didn’t want to be too eager, after all, maybe scare the skittish rat away.

“I-uh- I’d like that.”

At that his head shot right up, eyes twinkling in excitement. But then that high quickly dissipated when he realised he had no idea where to take it from there. He had no clue how to be soft. But you could fix that. You lifted his arm up and wrapped it around your shoulders before nuzzling into his chest. You could feel his heart pounding as hard as your own but he eventually relaxed. His other hand rested across your waist and began gently tracing circles. This perfect moment was ruined all too soon by a low creaking noise, your only warning before the sofa collapsed beneath you, tossing you both roughly on the floor, you atop Jamison.

“Heap of junk!” he spat. But you merely laughed.

“Actually this is great!” you countered, “I love fixing things.”


End file.
